Sempre Fidelis
by x-0
Summary: Charles/Erik, Post-film. There isn't, and will never be, anyone else. Warnings within


**Title**: _Sempre Fidelis_  
><strong>Fandom<strong>: X-Men: First Class (2011) (c) Marvel and others.  
><strong>CharactersPairings**: Charles Xavier/Erik Lehnsherr; mild mentions of Charles/OMC; Erik/OFCs  
><strong>Genres<strong>: Drama/Angst  
><strong>Rating<strong>: R  
><strong>Summary<strong>: There isn't, and will never be, anyone else.  
><strong>Warnings<strong>: mild bondage/impending character death.

-

_Charles Xavier is a man who is alive, and yet no solace comes to him from anything living. His chess board with its corresponding pieces carry inevitable nicks and scratches from a rocky history, but it isn't alive, has never been. And Erik Lehnsherr only once vibrantly was, isn't anymore._

_"You are thinking too much, Charles."_

_"Perhaps it is you who doesn't think enough."_

_"-Touche."_

_But not exactly untrue._

_Charles reaches over and prods his knight three spaces over, "Check."_

_"Charles, I am dying." _

-

There were women in Erik's life, women who weren't his mother. Three of them, to be exact. There was the blusterous Irish woman he'd liked for her enormously big breasts and red hair, whose name was either Fiona, or something similar. Even Erik himself couldn't quite remember.

Then there was gentle Elizabeth, who had come from a good, decent family who ran a chain of banks in Austria. She'd helped Erik grow a conscience. And then she'd killed the very thing which she had created by becoming a completely different person.

Lastly, there was Annalise, a woman who had no distinguishing marker on Erik's life other than the fact that she could have been easily replaced with any other face.

As it were, Erik's three outnumbered Charles' absolutely none, and as they left the pub together to walk - stumble a block back to their hotel, he says, "You. Are an awful flirt." His expression was carefully arranged in a picture of pain and suffering. "You've done flirting a grave injustice."

"I got her number, didn't I?" Charles held up a piece of scrap paper for his friend to examine. Erik plucked his prize from him and let the paper float away towards the pavement where it landed in a puddle.

"_Erik_." Charles didn't have to try hard to look as wounded as he felt.

"A number is only as good as your intentions, of which I know you have none," Erik turned to him with a smile that was all things. "At least, not with her. You read her mind, didn't you? What was in there?"

"- Not much."

Erik smirked, "Well, then. Let me make it up to you?"

-

Dr. Janos Hunt was Polish with an unfortunately American father. He specialised in trauma therapy, and Charles Xavier fascinated him. The man seemed unquestionably disturbed, and yet perfectly serene. If being shot in the spine, paralysed for life wasn't traumatic, nothing else really made the cut.

On his part, Charles decided that he liked the man's English, with just a touch of some strange lilt that seemed almost familiar.

"You have many secrets, Professor?"

Charles supposed he could count all of his secrets with the fingers of one hand. He had grave secrets, but not many. One of his newer secrets, he'd decided during their fourth, and last session, was that perhaps he could love Janos Hunt and his unshakable rationale if he tried. He could ask the man to speak strange Polish words to him in bed, and then Charles would remember Erik.

But he didn't.

"I have almost no secrets," said Charles, touching a finger to his temple. "Do you?"

"I could love you, you know." said Dr. Janos Hunt with a gentle, perhaps loverly smile. "You are wondrously fascinating."

Charles dropped his hand. He felt nothing.

-

_"You are...dying?"_

_There is only silence. Charles can feel Erik somewhere, far and distant, but he's still there. "Erik?"_

_"I suppose you think I am joking."_

_" - I don't know what to think."_

_"That's a first for you, isn't it?" There is a slight pause, "Bishop to B-7."_

_Charles waits a moment too long, then he pushes the white bishop back three squares._

-

Charles could feel the cool metal wrap around both of his wrists, but only to keep him in place, not to hurt him. "I hope you remember the shape of the bed so you can change it back in the morning."

Erik _howled_ outright, "I just tied you up. And that's what you're worried about."

"I'm not worried, just a friendly reminder, is all."

"As long as one of us remembers," Erik shrugged, as if he didn't care. He probably didn't. He shrugged off the rest of his clothes in a similarly careless manner. Charles was already undressed, but he'd taken great care to make sure that the clothes he had to wear the next morning were on hangers. He would have said something about it too, except admittedly, Charles was too busy being distracted by Erik's cock.

Erik just cocked an eyebrow and sat down at the edge of the edge of the bed, "It isn't polite to stare, Professor."

Charles gave him a look that said as much, "It isn't polite to keep people waiting, either."

Erik settled his weight on Charles' body and Charles closed his eyes and exhaled loudly, "_Oh_."

" -Good?"

Erik bent down to suck hard at his mouth, but it hurt in a good way; Charles arched forwards the best he could, but then the restraints were starting to bite, and Erik was pinning him down.

"More."

Charles doubted that Erik really meant to listen to him, but he does give him more, rolling his lips sharply, slowly, letting the best sort of ecstasy wash over him.

"You're going to ruin me for all other men."

This amused Erik, apparently, because he pulled back from Charles' mouth with a purposeful _pop_and licked his lips. Then he laughed, but this laugh was not like its predecessors, it sounded genuinely mirthful.

"To have you feed me a line that has nothing to do with genetics, well." He leaned over and kissed him again, "I suppose I must be doing something right."

-

_Erik's presence is growing fainter, but in the dark, it's much easier to focus. Given his current lifestyle, Charles supposes that it's not so much of a stretch to believe that Erik Lehnsherr is dying. But Erik doesn't mention it again._

_"I met this nice young boy at the pub," says Erik. "His eyes reminded me if you."_

_It hurts more than it ought to, "I suppose you took the boy home."_

_There is a slight tremor in the air, something shakes him deep in his chest. Erik laughing? Perhaps a remorseful laugh, "You already haunt me quite regularly in my own head, Charles. I don't need two of you."_

_There is something wet at the corner of his eye. _

-

The both of them watched as a little girl drew water from the well. The bucket was too big for her and water sloshed around her as she walked. They watched as the water collected itself back up and dropped obediently inside the bucket.

"So young," said Charles. His voice was mostly awe and sorrow.

"So very young," said Erik. His fists were clenched, staring very hard at the girl. In fact, he was staring so hard that he made a dent in her bucket.

She whirled around.

Unamused, Charles nudged him purposefully on the shoulder, "Don't scare the children, Erik, it's such bad habit."

"At least we found them first, right?" Erik tossed him an equally unamused grin and put an arm around him. They walked towards the girl together.

-

Erik looked very good naked, but that wasn't the point. The point was that watching him pace around the room as nature intended, Charles got a bad feeling.

"Who are you, and why are you wearing my face, Charles?"

Erik's hand was warm against his skin; Charles put his own hand over it. "Am I losing you?" The question was a front, the stray thoughts he sometimes let himself hear inside Erik's head didn't leave any doubts.

"You'll lose a lot of things," Erik said, mostly to Charles' ceiling. "But not me."

-

_"Are you really dying?"_

_The pauses are getting longer and longer, "That's a cruel joke, even for me."_

_Charles exhales heavily, "Anything I can do?"_

_"Has there really never been anyone else?"_

_Out of the two of them, Charles does not exactly expect this question from Erik. He knows that Erik knows that this is enough, this is all either of them can manage. They can dream of other things, times that might have been, but this - this is all. This should be enough._

_"No one mocks my pickup lines quite like you, Erik. I can't resist."_

_Erik is silent. "Are you tired?"_

_"I'm lying down. But no, not so tired."_

_"Good, then stay with me."_

_Charles picks up the black king piece and rolls it around in his hand, "I can do that." _


End file.
